Sometimes
by Reina-183
Summary: Post KH2. Yaoi, AxelRiku. Sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku would see someone who had faded long ago, and sometimes, he would miss someone he had never really known.


AHHH! Can't believ I'm writing an AxelRiku!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or any of it's characters, blah blah, ect.

Sometimes…

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku would think of _him_, the sarcastic jokester who had given everything for a lost friend, who had saved Sora when Riku himself couldn't. He thought about fiery red hair, bright green eyes, and a conceited smirk.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku would touch himself, imagining it was_ him_, those calloused fingers brushing his lips, his collarbone, his nipple, and lower, until Riku was tossing his head, heaving and sweating and pushing himself just a little further, imagining that different hands, longer and more tan, were touching him, bringing him pleasure.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku would dream of _him_. At first, he would only dream of fighting the strong, stubborn warrior, but soon, the dreams changed, and they became different kinds of dreams, a different kind of fighting.

At first, when Riku had awoken, soaked in sweat, covered in his own seed, heaving in spent delight, basking in the afterglow of a dream, he had blushed and tried to deny who he had been thinking of that night. And slowly, these nighttime thirsts continued, and Riku accepted them, looked forward to them, where, in his dreams, he could feel the sarcastic man pounding into him, repeatedly, while he begged for it, Faster! Harder! More! Please! Now! And his nails scraped deep, bloody lines into a bony back, giving pain, receiving pleasure.

And, sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku would think of _him_. Think of how he had watched _him_ watching Roxas in Twilight town, think of how _he_ had them all fooled, all that time, because who would guess a nobody would do all that for a friendship they weren't supposed to know, an emotion they weren't supposed to feel. Riku would wonder how someone that bright could burn out, with out ever really knowing Riku like Riku wanted to be known.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he would feel fingers running through his hair, a hand brushing his cheek, a mouth moving against his own, and when he would open his eyes, searching for spiked hair and bright green eyes, he would see nothing, and he would settle back to sleep, not seeing those eyes watching him, curious, examining, bright green eyes.

And then, one time, in the dead of the night, he had opened his eyes while that hand caressed his hair, and he had seen _him_, in that black cloak, with fiery red hair and bright green eyes, a confident grin on _his_ face.

Riku had opened his mouth wide, backing up against the wall behind his bed, his eyes almost bulging from his head. Riku had seen the tan skin and the mysterious body. He had heard the rough breathing, the moans the groans, the begging, the screaming, and Nnnn… Riku had felt the smack of skin on skin as _he_ pushed into Riku, burying _himself_ impossibly deep before _he_ pulled out and thrust in again, felt the slick blood as Riku dug deep into _his_ back with white knuckled fingers, eyes tearing from the exquisite pain pleasure as _he_ invaded Riku's body, felt the orgasm as it rocked through the both of them, and the feeling of his skin. He remembered the smell of sex, of seed, of sweat, and of something familiar but unrecognizable, and Riku remembered the salty taste of _his_ skin and the sweet, slightly chapped lips.

When Riku awoke the next morning, to the smell of sex and sweat, his stomach covered in his own sticky seed, the nobodie's mark left between his thighs, mixed in with blood, he groaned, trying to figure out how someone could be gone and still be here.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Riku remembers his first encounter with the impossible, and sometimes, when those finger run through his hair and sweet lips brush his own, Riku smiles, wondering when his next encounter will be.

Sometimes, he thinks he should tell someone, but they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand that Riku knew that the nobody had found peace in nothingness, though only if _he_ could revisit the real world every now and then.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, Riku whispered _his_ name, the thinnest, barest whisper that was swept away by silence before it even reached the silver haired boy's ears. A single word, a name, a mantra.

"Axel…"

Sometimes, anything is possible.


End file.
